1918
by jrhull
Summary: Edward is a 17 year old human whose family is suddenly struck with the influenza. Enter Carlisle. Canon. EPOV
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Follows pretty closely to Twilight, although some liberties taken. And I would love to hear what you think.**

**All characters belong to SM.**

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I always felt prematurely old. With just seventeen years of age in 1918 I had the wisdom and the experience of someone much older than myself. That August, my father and I witnessed the Chicago Cubs win the World Series after which the dynamics of Chicago began to drastically change. I had known that my only prospects was to go fight for my country, to be one among my fellow citizens to fight in the Great War; the war to end all wars, they called it.

Each day, I would return home from what little schooling I had, to witness my mother tending to my father who had grown ill. Newspapers told of a virus that was being brought home by the soldiers, something that was spreading and getting worse as the year wore on. My father was the first to show the signs of the sickness in our household.

"Edward?"

"Yes, Mother?" I replied.

"Dr. Cullen called on us today and suggested that we take your father to the hospital where he can be better cared for."

I knew that she was on the brink of losing her husband, her soul mate; the pain was etched on her face, I could see that. I wanted to protect her from the hurt she must be feeling, but there was nothing more to say. She would have to do as the doctor requested; she would have to cling to this last thread of hope.

I left the room. I was prepared to leave school. The only topic that held my interest had been Biology, but even then, no teacher taught us of what I saw as the truth. My school taught us Genesis from the bible, but my neighbor, Mr. Hayes, taught me about evolution and a biologist named Charles Darwin. I admired the two men, the first for being able to educate me in ways that my schooling failed, and the latter for uncovering a new frontier in the field of science. Mrs. Hayes, also an amiable woman, once gave me the book, The Origins of Species.

As I went to sleep that night I began to lose myself in the thought of natural selection and the concept of survival of the fittest, which I found to be most interesting. It explained the theory that predators would evolve so they could be the most alluring and the best predators they could in order to survive, to gain the best advantages in the animal kingdom. I soon drifted off to sleep without satisfying my curiosity on the subject.

I awoke the next morning to the sound of my mother shuffling around the kitchen. She prepared meals for the three of us for the day: one for myself for a lunch break and two to take with her to the hospital. The second meal she took with her was superfluous; I could not imagine that my father would be able to eat a meal, but I could not point this out to my mother.

We left simultaneously, in silence.

Chicago, at this time, did not have much to offer a man of my age and background. If I was not receiving lessons, I went straight to the shoe factory of Mr. Perkins. He was a man of forty with round framed glasses and a moustache that was too big for his face. He told me to come to his factory if I ever needed work, and surely, I needed it now. He immediately brought me in to work on the assembly line attaching the soles of shoes to their upper counterparts. I did so unenthusiastically for ten hours. Those who worked around me were constantly coughing and I could sense their exhaustion, sure that I would be like them once enough time had passed.

I returned to an empty home. As I waited for my mother to return from her day, I began to reread The Origins of Species. It wasn't long before she walked in through the door with yet another sullen look on her face.

"Oh, hello, Edward" she said.

"How is dad?" I asked.

"There's not much that the doctors can do for him. Dr. Cullen said that it would probably be any day now." Tears began to stream from her eyes but immediately wiped them away. She didn't want to show her pain, but I could feel it in ways that were unexplainable. I could sense her grief and sorrow through her expressions. I stood, moving forward to hold her so she knew her son would do anything for her. I took her in my arms and noticed how warm she felt, feverish. She began to cough. She couldn't stop, nor could she breathe. I began to worry. I got her into bed then left for my own.

For the next three days, we repeated the same schedules, the same monotony, and the same horror. I noticed how she progressively got worse, coughing more often and her temperature rising. I decided before falling asleep on that third night that I would take her to the hospital the next morning. Surely, this Dr. Cullen would be able to help.

When we arrived to the hospital in the morning, a nurse admitted my mother and gave her a bed. Just hours later, Dr Cullen came to tell us of my father's passing; he died in his sleep during the night. He had never regained consciousness once he entered the hospital even. I supposed that my father deserved to die peacefully. I hoped he didn't feel much pain while he was ill.

Though I told no one, I began to feel symptomatic. Instead, I sat next to my mother's bed and spoke with Dr. Cullen.

"How long have you been a doctor?" I asked.

"Long enough. However, I've never seen anything of this nature before." Watching his countenance as he spoke, I saw the face of a man with an endless amount of compassion.

"I heard it returned with soldiers from the war." I said. He looked at me, and I continued, "Once this is over, I'm going to enlist. I have to fight for my country, protect our freedom."

He couldn't stay to talk with me; he had too many other patients. When he returned, he asked me about school. I told him how I enjoyed biology and he commented how we had that in common. As he left, I thought medicine was a good discipline to study. I thought that Dr. Cullen followed a righteous path; he was inspiring me to consider the same.

The next time he entered the room, he inquired about my school mates.

"My classmates never fully accepted me, nor I them" I replied. Dr. Cullen turned his head inquisitorially, inviting me to continue. "I constantly see them as having a limited perspective on life. It's as if they don't see the world around them. And I find the girls to be very predictable."

He lightly chuckled. "That never changes. It is important to develop connections with those who you see on a deeper level." I could see him processing a thought, but did not say anything further. I wished he would share his mind with me and express his thought.

Dr. Cullen left the room then unable to suppress my cough any longer, I began to struggle with my breath. I was afraid I would wake my mother. She didn't stir. I whispered into her ear "I love you" and I took my leave.

I returned to an empty, quiet house. I barely ate anything that night and fell asleep immediately. That night I dreamt of a new family. Dr. Cullen had become my father. He was with a woman I didn't recognize but could only assume was his wife. It was obvious in their expressions that there was a bond that couldn't be put into words. I looked at them incredulously and felt a tinge of jealousy. At once, the pang of jealousy left my consciousness as I was lying with a girl, somewhere outside. It was sunny. I couldn't see her face, but her touch invigorated my skin, my soul.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: All Characters belong to SM.**

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I awoke to a bout of coughing but was immensely intrigued by my dream. But, alas, it was only a dream, a vague glimpse into a future that will never be.

Based on reports from all of the newspapers, I knew that someone surviving the influenza was uncommon. It was a morose thought, but when my mother passed, I'd lie about my age and enlist in the army; I would have no more roots in Chicago. Perhaps they would train me as a medic.

My body was functioning slower than usual and there was a lot of soreness throughout. I ignored this as I made my way to the hospital. My mother showed no signs of change; she was stagnant.

"Edward," she spoke, "how are you?"

What an absurd question to ask me. "I'm fine Mother, you need to rest."

"No." Her green eyes implored mine, wanting me to continue talking, but words failed me. I didn't know how to comfort her. What could she possibly want to hear? What consolation could I give?

She saved me from my thoughts, "Dr. Cullen should be in soon. He comes in to check on me often. It's reassuring to see his face. He has such compassion."

"Yes, Mother. He is a good man." After the dream I had, I found myself very curious about the doctor. I wondered about his family, if he actually was married or if I had just invented it all. Surely, I'd get the chance to ask him today.

It was hours before Dr. Cullen had paid us a visit. We could see him frantically moving through the hallway, but with such grace. Though he had circles under his eyes, his tiredness didn't show in the fervor of his movements. Each time he passed, his fluidity never left and I realized what poise the man had. He looked quite young, though his exact age, I couldn't be sure. He had blond hair with amber colored eyes. My mother commented how she thought he was an attractive man and I agreed with her.

Finally, he came to a stop at my mother's bed. As he checked her over, my curiosity got the better of me, and I blurted out, "Dr. Cullen, are you married?"

I embarrassed myself for being so forward. It was quite rude.

However, he turned his head slightly and said, "No."

It puzzled me. When he saw the confusion on my face, he continued, "Like you, Edward, I've never found a woman who could hold my attention. I've always needed a woman with a big enough heart but I've never crossed her path."

Before I could get another word out, the doctor turned to me and took my head in his hands. He tilted my head in varying directions and his hands felt the contours of my neck and throat. I was utterly confused until he told me to open my mouth. He peered in and panic crossed his face.

"Cough."

I coughed. He pried my eyes open with his index finger and thumb. I noticed how cold his hands felt, but perhaps I was so feverish any touch would feel cold against my skin. I looked in the directions he commanded, following his persistent examination.

"Do you have any soreness in your body?"

"Yes," I said sheepishly and continued, "since this morning. I've had the cough and fever for a couple days now."

"Why didn't you say anything?" He asked.

"I can't worry my mom right now. She needs to focus on getting healthy again."

Dr. Cullen gave me a disconcerting look. He knew how I wanted to put her first, how important she was to me. I didn't have much time left with her. Although he spoke the words aloud, I saw them on his face; His compassion shone through him similar in manner that an embarrassed girl would blush scarlet—there was no hiding his emotion.

"We need to get you into a bed, Edward. Your mother needs you to be healthy, too."

He was right. I saw his kindness and concern and I wanted to ask him more questions. I wanted to know how he became the man he was; how could he feel so deeply for a family he'd barely known; was I really special to him, was it me he cared for? I looked to the floor and said nothing. I allowed the nurse to escort me to a room across the hall and helped me into bed.

I was immediately overcome with guilt and sorrow. Why had I not wanted to ask my father the same questions? Why, only now that he was gone, did I see the benefit of having a man to look up to? Perhaps it was the nature of their work. My father spent many years in a mining town, working to give me the life I have now. Dr. Cullen, on the other hand, always worked to save lives. The doctor was continually around grief and could feel the experiences of those around him who suffered. He saw people at their weakest moments, both physically and emotionally and he was able to sympathize. My father was a laborer who knew of a different duress. It must have altered their conceptions of relationships. My father thought he would have his entire lifetime to get to know his son, while Dr. Cullen knew how fleeting human life was.

Why didn't I notice this before? I needed to see my father, to tell him how sorry I am for not getting to know him better. This was beginning to be the end of my family. I needed more time, I wasn't quite a man yet; I didn't understand.

My mother entered my room and took over my role and began to care for me. She made sure I was properly covered with the blanket. If she noticed sweat dripping from my forehead, she was quick to wipe it away. When the nurses entered with water, my mother held my head and helped bring the cup to my mouth. I hadn't realized how weak I truly was, but I was still concerned for my mother. I wished she would leave me for her own bed so she could rest, too.

Meanwhile, I thought more about my father. When he met my mother, they ran away together and settled in Chicago. They had a rough time making ends meet, but were always able to provide for me. I was even lucky enough that I didn't have to work, unlike so many of my peers. That was until recently, until my father lost his job and we needed the income to support us. The shoe factory wasn't much, but without it—I stopped the thought, it didn't matter now. I had spent the morning counting down the hours until my mother would die, until I would reinvent a new life for myself in the army; I wouldn't need money there. But, oh, how the tables have turned; it would be unlikely that I would walk away from this hospital.

Finally, a nurse convinced my mother to return to her bed for the night. My mother obliged. We both welcomed the night, an opportunity to drift into the subconscious and avoid the tumult of the hospital, of what had become of our lives. I saw the picture of Dr. Cullen's face in my mind, but I couldn't be sure if it was part of a dream or if he was actually in the room with me.

When I awoke in the morning, my mother had already returned to care for me. I sighed at her persistence, at her love, and at my inevitable loss. The sigh hurt, but I didn't allow any physical pain to overcome the sorrow I felt inside. I looked to my mother and saw how she had gotten worse in the night. She had no color to her face and she was beginning to look gaunt. I didn't imagine that I looked much better as her eyes looked deeply into mine and I saw the same hurt across her face.

I broke our eye contact to notice Dr. Cullen standing in the room, too. He looked just as miserable.

"Dr. Cullen—"

"Please, Edward, call me Carlisle."

"Carlisle, how is my mother doing?" I stole a glance of her and when I tried to return my gaze to Dr. Cullen, I had trouble keeping my eyes open; he didn't fail to notice.

"I need both of you to rest. It won't do much good with both of you worrying about the other and neither of you doing what is necessary to get well." He was right. Again. My mother must have thought so too because after he said this, she stood to exit the room.

First, she leaned forward and kissed my head. "I love you, Edward."

"I love you, too," was all I could reply.

We spent the day apart, but my thoughts were never far from her. I heard her cough with greater intensity and saw many nurses frequent her room. I drifted in and out of sleep and felt myself growing more ill as the day wore on. Nurses entered and exited my room numerous times as well and I heard their whispers.

"It's so upsetting. Who do you think will go first?"

"Shh…." The other nurse scolded.

The first nurse took no notice and continued, "At least they won't be without the other for very long."

I thought about that for a moment. I made a very selfish wish that she would be the first to go; I wouldn't want her to endure the pain of losing a son, even if it was only for a brief period. Children lose their parents, but to a parent to lose their child, that would be too much. I wouldn't ever want her to feel that pain.

The day passed with no other commotion. It was very late when I saw Dr. Cullen enter my mother's room. He was in there for a few moments. I tried to hear what was being said, but I couldn't focus long enough. My cough interrupted the silence of my room and drowned out their discussion.

I did my best to fight off the weight of my eyelids. My eyes fluttered open and in that moment, I saw Dr. Cullen wheeling my mother's bed out of her room. She had died. Sea salt tears filled my eyes as I realized I got my morose wish. The doctor didn't look up, he just stroked her hair the way I wished I could. He didn't take his gaze away from her lifeless body as he proceeded down the hall. Tears overflowed from my eyes, streaming relentlessly as I gave into exhaustion and let my lids close.


	3. Chapter 3

I didn't succumb to unconsciousness for long. Dr. Cullen was back in my room before the night had ended. The circles under his eyes had gotten darker and contrasted more with the pale tone of his flesh.

"Carlisle," I spoke. My eyes welled up with tears.

"Shh…shh…Edward."

I didn't want him to leave. I couldn't possibly be alone now—and oh how alone I truly was. Dr. Cullen ran his hands through my hair and his cold touch was refreshing against the hot temperature of my fever. Without a word, he grabbed a hold of the metal frame of the bed. He then took position behind me and began to wheel me from the room.

I closed my eyes. I didn't want to see where he was taking me; I didn't care. I was scarcely aware of the voices who spoke to Dr. Cullen as we progressed farther down the hall. I could feel the movement of the floor as it passed beneath me; I could feel the fresh, brisk air on my face as we exited the hospital. As he came to a stop, I opened my eyes. He had positioned the bed between the cover of two ambulance vehicles.

"Edward, I want to carry you to my home." He said it plainly as he looked to my eyes. I didn't argue, only nodded.

There was only a moment of hesitation in his regularly fluid movements, but he scooped me up into his arms effortlessly, leaving the bed behind. I felt the coolness radiate from his body although he didn't hold me too close. I was suddenly unaware as to where I should place my arms. I had instinctually reached to place them around his neck but in a moment of my own hesitation, I dropped them to my lap as he cradled me.

"That's alright, Edward. Place your hands around my neck."

I did so. His embrace became tighter and it sent a shiver down my spine. His gaze met my eyes and I felt safe. I leaned my head towards his body letting my eyes close and my mind wander. Our destination was of no consequence to me. I was overwhelmed with gratitude towards Dr. Cullen as I was sure he didn't want me to be alone in my last moments on this earth. How, in such a brief time, did I manage to feel so deeply connected to this man?

I felt him pause and I reopened my eyes. We were in front of a semi-wooded and very secluded lot. His house was reserved in size and I realized how oblivious I was to our location. I hadn't noticed which direction he turned when we left the hospital or the pace in which he brought me here. He didn't struggle to open the door or as he gently laid me down on his couch. Dr. Cullen—Carlisle—lived modestly. I could see shelves upon shelves of books. One wall was filled with painted portraits and a few newer photographs. I felt a pull to go wander through his book collection and examine the images plastered to the wall, but my body would not move. The last object in the room to leave an impression was a wooden cross. The wood was quite aged and worn. I couldn't place a date to it and before I could ask a single question, Carlisle spoke.

"I'm so sorry, Edward." He took my hand in his and stroked the top gently. He must have felt such deep pain knowing that there was nothing left to do. I was ready to embrace the next part of my journey—afterlife.

He turned my hand over with my palm facing upwards and lifted it to his face. He inhaled deeply when my wrist reached his nose. My eyebrows knit together in confusion, but I allowed him to continue.

The fluidity of his movements retuned but this time with such speed. I couldn't be sure of his actions, but I saw his teeth barred and felt my left hand drop to my side with a burning sensation. His movements grew in rapidity and my right wrist felt the same burn. In the same moment, he was at my neck as the immense heat coursed through my veins. What was this pain he was inflicting on me?

That thought stayed with me for an immeasurable amount of time. It was impossible to know if it was minutes that passed or hours—perhaps only seconds! The agony was relentless; I could feel nothing but the pain as it made its way through my body. My mind screamed out—if the noise escaped my lips, I took no notice. What did it matter if I was loud? No one knew the torment I felt, the suffering I had to endure. Why would this not end? I screamed and writhed in pain.

I needed to shift my focus. I heard footsteps pacing the floor, surely to leave a trodden path in the floorboards if the motions did not stop. It occurred to me that it must have been Carlisle. I daren't open my eyes to check for fear of being in a world not my own, a world far worse than I ever imagined possible for myself. What had I done to deserve this?

The time passed, but the agony did not. I still heard the rhythm of the footsteps. Had he not gotten tired? I wished for the sweet release of death, to be rejoined with my mother, my father. It had only been days, mere hours, but the torment in my heart was excruciating. I couldn't find the distinctions of all the pain I felt, it was all too deep.

My thought process became erratic, unable to cling to a thought for very long. That was when I heard Carlisle speak: _Why is this taking so long? _

Who was he talking to? Surely, I would have heard another pair of footsteps enter the room, but all I heard was Carlisle.

_The venom must be lingering._

Venom? I began to turn my concentration to the thoughts he expelled.

_It was the only way. Elizabeth told me to do everything in my power; this is the only power I possess. Yet I can't reconcile the desire to have a companion such as Edward, so pure, and condemning another soul to this life._ He argued with himself unrelentingly. He was so capable of commiserating with others, but his pathos was torn. _He is going to hate me for doing this to him._

I wanted to stop him, I didn't hate him. An excruciating cry erupted from my lips.

He winced at my despair and he looked to me. I could see myself through his mind. I was lying on the couch in the same hospital gown I wore for the past two days. A rose colored blanket covered me to my waist and I had a pillow beneath my head. My face, it looked so different. I was draining of all color—my flesh matched the same pale tone as Carlisle's. I recognized new similarities between us and continued to think about it for a moment longer. What was he? What was he turning me into? Most importantly, how was it that I could see myself through his mind? My thoughts were interrupted.

He continued with a stream of comments to himself, taking a brief pause between each thought.

_I need him._

_He wouldn't leave me. Look at the loyalty he showed his parents. But I'm not his parent. He'll come around, won't he?_

_I'll have to be careful; he'll be dangerous when he wakes up._

Although his thoughts were self-flagellating, his words were comforting. My assessment in the hospital was correct; I was special to him. He had felt the same connection.

The time slowed once more. I gained back the coherency of my thoughts. I heard Carlisle.

_His heartbeat! This is it._ I heard him take a few steps forward. "Edward, son?"

Son, he called me. Was it really that simple?

_What is he thinking? Is he okay? Did he hear me?_

He continued, "Edward, Open your eyes."

I did as he said.

_Careful, Carlisle. He must feel disoriented. It's a lot to take in._

"What did you say?" I asked.

"I told you to open your eyes. It's over now."

I had too many thoughts, too many questions. I didn't know where to start.

_He looks so confused. It's understandable._

"Stop that," I said, growing in anger.

"Stop what?" He was just as confused as I was. "Edward," he continued, "please, don't be angry."

I heard the fear in his voice, in the in same moment I saw myself through his mind. I didn't even realize it, but I was crouched next to the pyre that was my bed. My teeth were barred, ready to attack Carlisle. How did I get here? What was this posture I held? I looked furious in his eyes. There was no doubt that I was scaring him; I was a threat.

I straightened my pose with incomprehensible speed. "What happened to me?"

_Should I tell him now or take him hunting first?_

Though his lips didn't move, I could hear his thought perfectly.

"Carlisle—" I began but his thought interrupted my own.

_I must tell him. I can't let his anger overcome him._

"Tell me what?"

His eyebrows pushed together in confusion. _Did I say that aloud?_

"No," I replied for him. "I can hear your thoughts." It sounded so ineffective coming from my lips. Couldn't he do this, too?

_Hear my thoughts? _ The confusion did not leave his face. I also knew these thoughts were not meant for me.

"Yes, Carlisle. Wasn't this supposed to happen? Can't you do it, too?"

"No, Edward, I can't. I've never met another vampire with this gift."

Vampire? Gift? The words scarcely made sense, but when he uttered the word "vampire" I felt a twinge in my throat, a hollowness, a thirst for human blood. I needed blood. What a perverse need, but it was instinctual. I couldn't image anything else that would quench my thirst, put out the flames that roared in my throat. I began to look around me, sniffing the air, trying to discern the scent of human blood.

Carlisle must have noticed the shift in my composure. "We need to hunt," he said. _There are many things I need to teach you. Please, trust that you do not need human blood. There are other ways, we can protect human life. _

He spoke aloud again, "Here, let me show you." He placed one hand on my back between my shoulders and we walked into the night together. His embrace around me was an effortless gesture, with no thought to accompany it—natural. I knew what it meant for the both of us: he was no longer alone and I would never have to feel that suffering. Now, it was my turn to embrace our future; I would follow him.

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I took a deep breath. I had forgotten my audience. It's quite remarkable, actually, I never conceived I'd have another thought without them. Earlier this evening, Renesme asked for a bedtime story—asked for this one specifically and Bella had always been just as curious.

After I took that initial deep breath, Bella stretched her lips across to meet mine. I inhaled her essence mixed with the scent of our beautiful baby girl and was perfectly content. Both of them had their eyes glued to mine trying to penetrate further into my mind but all Bella whispered was, "I love you." Her whispers filled my heart.

"As I love you," was all I replied and all she needed to hear.

She already knew my story and I did the best I could to recount it all for her. Most of what I told her I heard from Carlisle originally. I added whatever memories of my own I could manage and offered very few embellishments. No sooner than I began the story was I flooded with the dream I had of a faceless girl who was able to ignite my soul. I all seemed so obvious now. The meadow. How could I have not realized, even then, that she was my soul mate; she had always been the one I was looking for, the one to complete my existence.

Bella rose to take Renesme to her bed. As they exited the room I began to think that feeling merely content was not enough. I was happy, complete, fulfilled. I knew that not only did my family complete my own happiness but my mother and father's as well. Esme and Carlisle had finally completed their family with a wife for their son and a granddaughter—my daughter. I knew what I felt was only the beginning. This was only the surface of the love and warmth that Carlisle felt for me all those years ago. And Esme, the love and devotion she had shown me immediately after joining this new world, the passion she felt for Carlisle. I relished in the thought that this was only the beginning.

Bella returned to me. She climbed into the bed and nestled herself into my arms. My family and I still had an eternity to grow together, to reach our true potential—to reach such great heights. I held my wife and felt an overwhelming amount of love. I would have the rest of eternity to tell her and show her all the ways that I loved her. But in that moment, I just held her closer.

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**A/N: All feedback is much appreciated.**


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